


Always

by whimsicality



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types, Roswell (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-09
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 10:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 4,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicality/pseuds/whimsicality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She first discovered magic as a child years before a certain reincarnated alien King healed her in her parent's diner. She fought, she lived, she loved. Then she was sent back and given a new destiny, a new war, but she never gave up on finding a way home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**_Magic_ **

She was a child when she first discovered magic, when she first fell all unknowing into Destiny, long before her life was filled with aliens and powers and the bitter scent of death, both literal and figurative. They never knew that when Max healed her, it wasn't the first time she'd been so close to death. They never knew that she always resented him for saving her life, because in those brief moments after the bullet burrowed its way beneath her skin and before his healing hands touched her, she saw the land of magic once again.

They never knew that every moment of every day she wished that none of them existed, because her heart would always belong to Narnia, and to _him_.

~

Lizzy slipped away from the not-so-watchful eye of her grandmother's archaeology student turned last minute babysitter, and made her way silently down the hall toward the small library at the back of the house. Most of the books there were hard for her to understand, even though she was the smartest girl in her class, but it didn't matter because her favorites were the collection of geography books her grandmother used for her travels. She loved to look at the books of maps and imagine what all the exotic places looked like, and what she would do when she got to go there someday.

Gently closing the door behind her and blocking out the sound of the girl's high-pitched voice as she chatted on the phone with her boyfriend, Lizzy walked toward the shelves and traced her fingers over the thick spines, trying to decide which one to look at. Did she want to imagine lush tropical islands? Or deep, mysterious forests? Or maybe a bustling, foreign city? Biting her lip, she debated with herself until she came across a gap in the row of books, and spotted something hiding in the dark shadows at the back of the bookcase. Reaching through, she pulled out a thin, dusty hardback that must have slipped off the shelf at some point and been forgotten.

Peeking inside she saw maps, old maps, and smiled happily as she carried her new treasure over to her favorite chair, over-stuffed and wonderfully comfortable. Tucking her feet under her legs, she curled up on the faded cushion and brushed the dust off the cover, before reverently opening it to the first page. The first map revealed was the color of old parchment, with darker brown and blue and green details that sparked her imagination, despite their simplicity compared to more modern illustrations. The names written out in blood-red script were unusual, and made her feel a strange chord of longing as her eyes followed the slender, looping lines.

At the top left of the map was a stretch of desert, oddly named the 'Lantern Waste', making her frown with curiosity as she wondered why it had such a strange name. Just below the desert was a large forest entitled 'The Western Woods', which was not too far from another, smaller forest identified as 'The Shuddering Wood', a name that sent goose bumps crawling down her spine. On the far right of the page was a drawing of a castle labeled 'Cair Paravel' that sat on the coast of a large, unnamed sea. The sketch was fanciful, but detailed, and she couldn't help but picture herself in a shimmering gown standing atop one of the tall towers with all the land stretched out before her.

Giggling softly, she touched the smooth paper and traced the river that led from the castle into the west, across the plains and toward the forest. She paused at a smudge that seemed more like a landmark than a blemish, and leaned in closer to see. The world suddenly began to spin and she felt herself growing dizzy; there was a strange rushing in her ears and a sudden dazzling light blinded her eyes. When her vision cleared, she found herself on the ground, feeling grass-covered dirt beneath her knees instead of a soft carpet, and staring at a set of hooves that looked awfully large for a horse.

Raising her head, she followed the legs up and saw, to her shock, not a horse's head, but the top half of a very muscular man; a man who was holding a gleaming, sharp spear, and who was staring at her with dark, amused eyes. "Welcome to Aslan's camp, little one; are you friend or foe?"


	2. Chapter 2

**_Adventure_ **

The innocence of childhood, and the proof of all five senses, quickly washed away her logic driven cynicism, and when a parade of creatures she'd never believed existed, led her to a talking lion, who was so much more than just a lion, she took it all in stride. This was an adventure! And one she didn't have to wait to grow up for! They called her a Daughter of Eve and placed a cushion on the ground next to Aslan, where she watched the comings and goings with wide, excited eyes.

There was an indefinable tension in the air that even she could feel, although she didn't completely understand it, and so she was relieved when a pair of talking beavers led three more children into the camp. Two of them were older than her, and had the same worried looks that the creatures around her had, but one was a girl just her age whose eyes were sparkling with the same intense wonder, and she felt an instant kinship for her, for Lucy, and felt another surge of joy at finding a friend.

Lucy was worried too though, about her brother who was missing, and so Lizzy did her best to make her smile, asking her questions about Narnia and where she'd come from before, and telling her stories about her own life and her grandmother's adventures. Just when Lucy had actually laughed, a tall, pale, cold woman walked into the camp, a fearful hush spreading in her wake, and the two girls huddled together as the woman spoke to Aslan in harsh, demanding tones.

Eventually Aslan came back to the camp, leading with him a boy who Lucy abandoned her for, running to him and hugging him ecstatically. The boy hugged her back, but then pulled away, a shamed expression on his face, and Lizzy's heart went out to him, wanting to take away the pain and guilt she saw lingering in his eyes. Later that night, she did get a chance to talk to him, to make him smile like she had made Lucy smile, but then things changed, and things grew darker in a way that had nothing to do with the sun, and she learned the meaning of the word war – it was a long time before any of them smiled again.

The battle was fast and scary and even though she was instructed to stay out of the fray, the other side didn't care and she was forced to flee when two black dwarfs found her hiding place. It was Edmund who saved her, and she got one more brief, intense smile before he was gone again. When the battle ended, and she found him with his brother, lying cold on the forest floor, she began to wish that she had never found this adventure, had never left the safety of her boring, normal life.

But in the end Lucy, Lucy who would become her sister, she saved him, and although Lizzy, now Liz, had learned the meaning of the words war and death and evil that day, she knew that it was worth it.

Years later when she married Edmund, and became Queen Elizabeth the Loyal, she had forgotten what began the adventure, and only knew that Narnia was home.

A home that she never thought she'd leave, until the day they followed the accursed white stag and stumbled across a lamppost; the day she lost everything.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Loss_ **

At first, she had raged and cried and searched for a way back. This place, this time, this body, was not what it should be, and every day that passed with no sweet Narnian air, with no stone castle or dancing fauns, and most importantly, no _Edmund_ , killed a little more of her soul. She grew resigned, withdrawn, moody. Her parents worried and her teachers' recommended therapy. Everything was wrong and nothing mattered, not anymore.

On her thirteenth birthday, her second thirteenth birthday, she decided to forget, because she could no longer live with the pain of the memories. Overnight she transformed into an overly studious, overly logical, control-freak science nerd, who wore a Crashdown uniform instead of chain mail, and wielded a number two pencil instead of a sword. She perfected the façade and the friendships and the smiles on the outside until everyone stopped worrying, and on the inside was too numb to care.

Then _it_ happened – the argument, the gun, the bullet sliding under her ribcage as if she was made of butter. The world went dark as blood pooled against her skin, the familiar copper scent sending her mind back as she saw scenes of Narnia, of _home_ , playing across her eyelids with vivid intensity. But then he touched her, the boy Maria thought she could like, and he dragged her back to the present, to the sickeningly lifeless 'real' world. She tried to fight it, to surrender to the sucking pull of nothing, because she didn't want to lose that glimpse of heaven, but in the end his powers were stronger than her will to die.

When he told her not to tell and ran, she couldn't say a word, afraid that if she opened her mouth, the hate she felt for him 'saving' her life would spill out, and her perfect façade would be destroyed.

That night, she stared at her body, her still too young body, in the mirror, now marred by a silver handprint, and laughed until she cried.

After he told her that he was an alien, that the miracle he had pulled off had nothing to do with magic or Aslan or anything she loved, she cried until she laughed.

Roswell still wasn't Narnia, still wasn't home, and this time if it wasn't human, it meant it was from a planet far, far away and was either trying to woo her, ignore her, or kill her. But the familiar sensations of adrenaline, the thrill of strategy and enemies, even though the battles here did not compare to the scale of the battles she used to lead at Edmund's side, were the sweetest things she'd known since she tumbled back out of the rabbit hole into this dull and dying world. It was a drawn out, violent form of suicide, and with every new danger, every new enemy, she prayed that when she died, she would see green hills and dancing trees again.

Mostly, she just prayed for death.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Love_ **

A soft giggle wafted through the air towards him and he grinned triumphantly, yanking back the heavy brocade curtains to reveal his wife, dark eyes sparkling with merriment as she held her hands over her mouth in a futile attempt to hold back her laughter. He reached forward, grateful that she was still in her night shift instead of one of the layered gowns she wore during the day, and brushed his fingers across her ribs, capturing her waist with his other hand when she tried to squirm away. Her laughter pealed throughout the room as she struggled to get away from him and his still tickling fingers, and he drank in the sight of her face, alight with joy and mischief.

"Edmund!" she finally cried, slumping against him in surrender. "Stop, we have to get ready for King Lune's visit."

He wrapped his arms more securely around her, refusing to let go, and smirked down at her, shaking his head. "You should have thought of that before you woke me with a pillow to the face and a vanishing wife."

She grinned up at him unrepentantly and slid her arms around his neck, rising on tiptoe so that she could brush her lips against his, once, twice, three times, until he finally gave in and kissed her back. He lifted her feet off the floor and took several steps backwards, then tumbled them both back onto the bed, her surprised gasp and happy giggles making his heart swell with love as he captured her lips again.

Twelve years since he first met her, a slip of a girl who just wanted to make him smile. Six years since he first dared to kiss her, the bravest and best decision he ever made. Two years since he watched her walk down the aisle in floaty white gown handcrafted by the dryads, although he didn't learn that until weeks after the wedding, as he hadn't been able to take his eyes off her face, beautiful and glowing and _his_.

Their kiss changed from sweet to passionate and she pulled him on top of her, warm chocolate eyes sparkling with a different kind of intent that took his breath away as she buried her hands in his hair, kissing him slowly, deeply, their hearts picking up the same steady rhythm as he trailed his hands down her sides, reveling in the silky feel of her skin and the warmth of her slender curves.

Something wrenched at him and his eyes flew open, a gasping sob bubbling over his lips as he saw his darkened bedroom ceiling and realized that it had just been a dream, that he was once again trapped in the 'real' world, stuck in his useless, eleven-year-old body, and that once again, she was gone.

On the other side of the world, in a different time, a sixteen-year-old girl woke up and wept, one hand clutching her pillow, the other reaching for her missing other half before falling hopelessly to the mattress as reality - cruel, callous reality - set in. He had never been there at all.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Wrong**_

When they heard the horn's call, and he felt the singing in his soul that had been lost since they first stumbled back through the wardrobe into the grey misery of war-torn England, with Liz no longer holding his hand, and instead achingly _gone_ , he had closed his eyes and pictured her face, expecting to see her on the other side, beautiful and perfect and _his_.

But she wasn't there. She wasn't there when they stumbled on the ruins of their former home. She wasn't there when they found their gifts, when he felt the sting of loneliness because now he was the only one who hadn't been blessed by Father Christmas, or when they rescued the dwarf, whom she would have effortlessly charmed, from the Telmarines. She wasn't there when Lucy saw Aslan so that she could defend his sister as she always had. She wasn't there and it tainted his joy, removing all possibility of finding happiness, even in the beloved peace and familiar magic of Narnia.

So he stood up for Lucy in her stead, believing in her out of loyalty that had once been born of guilt and now was simply the way of things; from being Lucy's most merciless tormentor, he had become her staunchest ally, no matter the world they currently resided in. Once they learned more of the situation, he had Peter's back, defended his decisions even when he disagreed with them – that was what family, what Kings, did, just as they moved on from the consequences of their actions, never giving up, never giving in.

He saw the young prince's interested glances at Susan and repressed a stabbing pain of loss every time he remembered a pair of chocolate brown eyes giving him those same looks. He lost himself in the battle plans, in this new war, so reminiscent of his first time in Narnia, and tried to ignore the fact that his other-half, his better-half, was not standing at his side as she had during every other battle he had fought on Narnian soil.

In the end, despite losses and betrayal and mistakes, they won, with Aslan's help and the magic of the land itself, they threw out the usurpers and reclaimed the throne for the rightful ruler. But none of it mattered, none of it made the lack of her presence better, and he couldn't keep pretending that it did.

It was all right and all wrong and it wasn't supposed to be like this, not in Narnia.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Hope** _

When she fell asleep on the plane to Florida, and woke suddenly to the feel of water splashing on her face, the last thing she expected was to find herself lying on the shifting wooden planks of a ship, a ship that smelled of things she didn't dare let herself dream about. So when she viciously pinched herself and then opened her eyes to see the shocked face of the husband she hadn't seen in almost a decade, it was unsurprising that she immediately started to cry and laugh and try to speak all at the same time. "Edmund?"

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her fiercely, tasting of salt from the sea, and from their mingled tears, and she felt every last care drain away as her very soul sung with the rightness of being with _him_. It was perfect, it was magic, it was Narnia, and for the second time in her unnatural life, she was home.

It wasn't a peaceful journey, full of danger and fraught with tension and betrayal, just as deadly as what she'd left behind, if not more so, but none of that mattered. All that mattered was that he was there, and so was Lucy, and once again everything was right in her world. She spent every moment of every day, and every moment of every night, basking in his presence, feeling the warmth of his gaze, memorizing the lines of his face, the feel of his skin, his spicy masculine scent, until he was imprinted on her mind, heart and soul, never to be lost again, all the while ignoring the dark inner whispers that told her to enjoy it while it lasted, because it was too good to be true.

When the journey ended, far too soon for her liking, she shoved those whispers down, gripped his hand so tightly that her nails drew blood, and stepped through the portal, hoping and praying fiercely, until a sudden disorienting wrench ripped her away. She panicked and started to struggle, her breath coming in short gasps until her seatmate on the airplane tentatively touched her arm, a worried look on the older woman's face. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

Liz just stared at her for a moment before finally managing a nod, turning away before the woman could see her tears, holding her pillow to her mouth to cover her painful, wracking sobs. Eustace and Lucy weren't there, _Edmund_ wasn't there – she would never be okay again. She been given another glimpse of heaven; she'd once again felt the glorious perfection of being in her husband's arms, and now she was back in hell.

Half a world and several decades away, a young man fell to his knees and wept, cradling his hand to his chest, still imprinted with the bloodstained crescents from her nails. Losing Narnia, again, was a near mortal pain. Losing _her_ was worse than death.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Alone_ **

The first time Edmund lost Narnia, lost her, he raged and railed, started fights, acted belligerent, barely spoke to anyone outside of his siblings, who gave him space, support, and affection because they knew. The second time he lost Narnia, without ever having seen her, he grew withdrawn, silent, depressed, never spoke unless spoken to, even with his siblings. Lucy was the only exception because she too mourned for her lost sister, his lost wife, and their other brother and other sister seemed determined to forget that they’d ever had a place where they belonged, a place with magic, a place with love.

Then there was his third trip into Narnia, where at first it seemed like the last, magical but not enough, never enough, but then she came and he got to hold her, to touch her, to kiss her, and he vowed to never let her go again, forcefully ignoring the traces of desperation than tainted their every word, every glance, every caress. He held her at the end as tightly as he dared, welcomed the tiny pricks of pain from her nails, and wept when they were ripped away because he did not think he could survive losing her again.

When his tears dried, he felt hollow, blank, light, as if his heart and emotions had been ripped away with her, leaving nothing behind. He threw himself into life, into normal life, with a fierceness and intensity that both frightened and pleased his family. He went to Oxford and studied education, in honor of the Professor whose house had begun it all. He joined the University’s rugby club and quickly rose to captain, his grasp of strategy and utter lack of fear serving him well.

Only he, and maybe Lucy, knew that while he experienced life with a fullness that others admired, he was not truly living at all. He was an empty shell, and would remain so until he saw her again.

~

Lying on the hard and lumpy hotel mattress, Liz tried to remember the last time she’d cried and couldn’t. No matter how much pain and grief she felt in this life, it was overwhelmed by the grief from losing her real life, and so the tears never came, not when Alex died, not when she had to leave home for fear of her life, not when they got the news of her parents’ death, not during the now nightly fights where Max screamed and sobbed because she still refused to marry him after all this time.

She was already married¸ to the only man she had ever loved, and although she might never see him again, she refused to betray their vows, something she could not, would not, explain to the boy who would be king, who was now sleeping on the floor. A soft, bitter chuckle escaped her lips at the thought of Max as king. Maybe, in a past life, he had earned the title he bore, but in this one, in this one he did not compare to the Kings she knew, trusted, and served, he could not compare to the King she loved and ached for, body and soul.

Her title was another source of contention between them, once her body had accepted the changes his alien powers unlocked in her DNA, he had tried to get her to accept the seal of queen, and had been shocked and hurt when she refused. He did not know that she was already Queen, that she already had a country, a people. She would help him, had helped him, had fought by his side ever since he dragged her back to life, but the thought of swearing her allegiance to Antar made her physically sick with the utter wrongness of the act.

She didn’t even consider herself American anymore. She was a Narnian, a Queen, a wife, and it was those identities she clung to possessively in the quiet dark of night, those identities that kept her from throwing herself in front of the next energy blast, because she would not dishonor her country or her King by taking the easy way out, no matter how painful it was just being alive without him.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Home_ **

Liz collapsed wearily into the worn, but still comfortable chair, burying her face in her hands and sighing deeply. Being able to be there, in her grandmother’s home, for the first time since she’d passed away, was a painful blessing. For several years there, she’d never thought she’d be able to come home, much less to the house she’d inherited and loved. But after almost a decade on the run, a truce had been reached with both the government, and their enemies on Antar, and they’d all been able to see their families again.

Well, not all. It was too late for her; both of her parents had passed away in a car accident, an accident that part of her still believed had been no accident at all, and was therefore fully her fault, but it had been long enough that the sharp stabbing grief and guilt she felt had faded to a dull, persistent ache. Almost everything about her had faded; she was a hollow shell of herself, as worn as the chair she was sitting in.

Pulling her hands away from her face, she slowly inhaled and exhaled, trying to summon the ghost of energy needed so that she could begin to unpack, to settle into the house she intended to live in until she died – no more adventures for her. Stretching overused muscles, she turned her head, eyes lighting on an old and dusty volume resting on the nearest shelf. It was familiar, achingly familiar, and she felt a lump form in her throat from an old grief that had nothing to do with alien conspiracies or their fallout.

Rising shakily to her feet, she reached out and gently touched the cover, half expecting it to burn or shock her, and felt vaguely disappointed when nothing happened other than the shifting of some dust. Curling her fingers around the spine, she lifted it off the shelf, her hand trembling as she opened it to the first page, her heart stopping as she once again saw the map, the map that was the beginning of her best, and worst, memories.

A sudden noise startled her and she spun, clutching the book to her chest, and gaped at the viciously smirking form of an alien she’d thought long dead. “You should have known better than to think peace would last,” Nicholas taunted, hand already glowing with deadly energy, energy she did not have the will or desire to protect herself from. He looked vaguely surprised when she didn’t fight back, when she crumpled soundlessly to the floor under his attack, still gripping the book with trap-like fingers. Her breath rattled in her chest, painful power burning the life from her body, and she smiled at him, the sight of his confused and frustrated face the last thing she saw before she gave into the sucking, familiar, and welcome pull of death.

Moments and ages later, she breathed in fresh, clean air, her body feeling younger and healthier than it had in years. The smile still curved her mouth and she stretched out her hands, feeling soft grass beneath her fingertips, a different type of power entirely coursing through her body, tingling with the wondrous feel of magic. Something touched her face and she opened her eyes to see Edmund leaning over her, eyes brimming with happy tears, her name a whispered prayer on his lips.

She reached up and pulled him down on top of her, laughing delightedly at his surprised gasp, and then pressed her mouth against his, pouring all of her longing, her need, her joy into the kiss, one hand caressing the back of his neck while the other clutched his shirt tightly, holding him against her, reveling in the beating of his heart beneath her palm. “I love you,” she said when he finally broke the kiss; unable to stop grinning because she knew that this time, this time she got to keep him and he got to keep her because she had nowhere else to go.

“I love you to,” he whispered back, grinning just as widely, just as madly, and then he was kissing her again and they were both laughing and crying and it was perfect, it was magic, it was Narnia, it was _home_.


End file.
